


Learning our Bodies (Our Minds, and Our Hearts)

by Fawkes_Rinzler



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut, slices of life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 00:11:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13915227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fawkes_Rinzler/pseuds/Fawkes_Rinzler
Summary: Snippets of memories as Vol'jin and Thrall go from friends to brothers in arms to lovers to something even more...Tags and characters are subject to change!





	Learning our Bodies (Our Minds, and Our Hearts)

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting an excuse to write Vol'jin and Thrall smut, but I haven't been able to stick to one thing long enough to write anything good, so I figured I'd try this instead. No beta has gone through this, I literally wrote this in an hour. ^^; All I want is more Thrall/Vol'jin stuff on AO3! Nothing gets too too explicit, but I wanted to cover my butt anyways, because it probably will get worse later on. ^^;

1\. The first time they laid together was a mere week after Thrall met the Darkspear Tribe. Vol’jin was a brave young heir to the Tribe, a pride of the Darkspear, and a rather handsome Troll, in Thrall’s opinion. They’d had a friendly competition that day, witnessed by the rest of the Tribe. A one on one battle, between Thrall of the Horde, and Vol’jin of the Darkspear. In the end, it was a draw, and the charming young Vol’jin had volunteered to lead them to a river where they could clean up after the battle. 

Thrall attempted modesty in his cleaning, washing at his face while keeping his clothes on, but Vol’jin had tossed aside such reservations, stripping himself down and leaping into the cold river to rid himself of the sweat and grime from the battle. Thrall had been entranced, and when Vol’jin bid the Orc join him, he could do nothing but accept. There, in the privacy of the river, surround by nothing except trees, Vol’jin and Thrall helped each other work out the stress of the morning’s battle. That night, they took it a step further, and Thrall could not help but feel a blooming fondness in his heart for the Troll who was whispering a thousand praises in Zandali beneath him. 

2\. Their next time together was not until the Darkspear joined the Horde, marked solemnly by the death of Sen’jin. Vol’jin had fallen quiet and reserved, even as he led his people away from their homeland and on the ships that would take them far away. The mood had only grown worse as the ships turned towards the North. The temperature grew frigid, and Vol’jin became utterly silent.

Thrall finally broke the silence one night with an offering of food and comfort. Vol’jin’s favorite fish, gentle words, and even gentler touches had the young Troll mumbling in Zandali that this wasn’t right, he didn’t feel he deserved any carnal pleasure for now, and he should be taking this time to mourn his father. So Thrall didn’t push. He didn’t want to see guilt eat away at the young Darkspear Chief. Instead, he only offered gentle touches and whispered words of affirmation and kindness until Vol’jin finally broke down and cried. It was the first emotional response Thrall had witnessed from Vol’jin since news of his Father’s death reached him, and Thrall held Vol’jin close and stroked his hair reassuringly until the Troll fell asleep. The next day, Vol’jin seemed better, more calm and assured, and that night, Vol’jin went to Thrall and whispered Zandali in his ear until Thrall couldn’t stand it any longer. Their lovemaking that night was nothing like the first time. What had first been wild, passionate, and fervent was now calm, slow, and almost worshiping in nature. Whispers of affections passed between the two as they explored each other’s bodies and took their time. Even when Thrall was buried up to the hilt in Vol’jin, the two remained clear-headed and open-eyed, and morning found the two still tangled in each other’s embrace.

3\. Their third time was marked by their first landfall. The island was cold, they were low on supplies, and every attempt to get Vol’jin into something warmer was met with resistance. Thrall knew he was cold, but every time he approached with furs or a blanket, the Troll shied away like he expected the extra layers to hurt him. Thrall lost his patience on the fourth day and, instead of trying to ambush the Troll with blanket, ambushed him with his body instead. It ended as well as any might have expected, with Vol’jin pinned to Thrall’s bed on his stomach, Thrall on top of him, holding the Troll’s hands up above his head and locking their ankles together to keep struggling to a minimum. Then, with his free hand, Thrall grabbed a fur blanket and threw it over them. Vol’jin was hissing and squirming like a cat tossed into a river, but Thrall had the advantage. 

Sinuous limbs, though beautiful and strong, could do nothing against the bulky weight of an Orc, and Vol’jin only succeeded in tiring himself out. When he stopped squirming and relaxed, Thrall finally realized what his crotch had been pressing against the entire time, and his erection quickly made itself known. Vol’jin, being the mischievous Troll, offered Thrall a smirk from over his shoulder and began to grind against Thrall’s hardness. Thrall tried to stay strong, to ignore the mounting lust that was quickly addling his brain, but Vol’jin was wise on Thrall, and knew exactly how to drive the Orc mad with excitement.

It was the first time they coupled not facing each other. Thrall was pleased he didn’t have to fear that his eyes would be gouged out by a rogue pair of tusks, but something about missing every minute facial expression in his lover made Thrall decide they would not make that a typical position for them.

4\. Their fourth time was the day after they made landfall in Durotar, and also marked the first time they switched positions. It was endearing, really, how shy Vol’jin was about the whole thing. Given how wanton he was when Thrall took him, it was a rather sweet change of pace to see Vol’jin between his legs, whispering a thousand things in Zandali that Thrall didn’t understand and peppering every action with shy kisses. It was a long night for them, as Vol’jin grew more and more confident in himself. Thrall didn’t realize just how enjoyable it could be until he felt himself full with Vol’jin’s length. 

When they were finally done, the sun was nearly rising, and Vol’jin was back to looking shy and unsure. It wouldn’t be something they’d do terribly often, but the change was nice, and Thrall enjoyed allowing Vol’jin to take control.

5\. They did not have the chance to lay with each other again until the foundations of Orgrimmar were set and construction had begun. Thrall had been off protecting the newly founded Horde, and Vol’jin was busy settling in the Darkspear in Echo Isles. It had been months since they’d last seen each other, and by the time they crawled into bed together, both were so tired, it was impossible to be intimate. Vol’jin collapsed onto his side and Thrall curled up around him. They slept for a day and a half and weren’t disturbed until Rexxar peaked in on them to make sure his Warchief wasn’t dead.

Thrall needed only to give Rexxar a warning look before the half-orc quietly retreated. Thrall settled back down against Vol’jin and the two kept on sleeping until the sun was down and Orgrimmar was quiet. When Vol’jin finally stirred, Thrall was petting his hair and staring down at him lovingly. The two spoke for long hours about their future plans, for Orgrimmar and Echo Isles, for a peace forged with the Alliance, and a calmer future where they could finally take some time to rest. They spoke until the light began to shine on the horizon, and slept until Rexxar, flanked by Rokhan this time, came in yet again to make sure the Warcheif and Cheiftan were not dead. This time, Vol’jin and Thrall both responded, grumbling and muttering to each other as they got up, got dressed and joined their people in the waking world. Vol’jin did not leave Orgrimmar that day, and Thrall did not stray far from his Troll companion. When construction was finished for the day, and dinner was finished, the two retreated to Thrall’s room to finish what they’d planned the day before. 

They spent the entire night relearning each other’s bodies, recalling old features and discovering new ones. Vol’jin traced a large scar on his shoulder that had not been there before as Thrall kissed tusks that he swore grew two inches at least. When Thrall finally laid Vol’jin back against the furs, the Troll had a smile on his face like he’d just been given the whole world. He reached for Thrall’s hand, and Thrall took it, rubbing his thumb over the two knuckles. They spent long hours tangled in each other’s embrace, worshipping each other’s bodies, and just allowing each other into the private spaces of their hearts and souls. Even when they finally surrendered to sleep, they did not pull away from each other. Vol’jin’s long, sinuous body had completely ensconced Thrall, and Thrall’s strong limbs were holding Vol’jin close.

Rexxar and Rokhan let their leaders sleep that morning. The Ancients knew they deserved it.


End file.
